


Shrugging Along

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst and Humor, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: Tony agrees to look after a friend's son as a favour - he may wish he hadn't! This is AU - very AU but hopefully the characters will still be recognisable.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony DiNozzo took a quick look around his apartment and then picked up his keys in preparation for leaving.  He groaned when there was a knock at the door and he swung it open with a scowl,

“Look,” he began, “I don’t have … Jack?”  He stared in puzzlement at his friend Jackson Gibbs who was standing there.  Tony looked at his watch, “Um … am I late?  I thought your flight was getting in at 2200?”

“It is,” said Jackson, “Change of plan.  Leroy here insisted on bringing his fishing gear.”  Jackson nodded towards the sulky pre-teen standing beside him.  “I hired a car and we drove.”

Tony found himself staring in fascination at the fishing pole and scruffy canvas bag.  “I see,” he managed eventually, “Hey, come in.”

Leroy Jethro Gibbs took up the invitation but at his own pace: a pace which trod the fine line between politeness and disdain.  Tony smothered a smile, “Nice to see you, Leroy,” he said.

Leroy nodded in a way that only an optimist could interpret as expressing pleasure.

“Your room’s through there,” said Tony pointing to the spare room.  “Why don’t you put your gear in there?”

There was another nod and this time the boy moved a little quicker as if the prospect of getting away from the adults was appealing.  The door closed behind him, not gently but not quite a slam.  Jackson sighed,

“I’m sorry, Tony.  You sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

Tony nodded bravely although he was beginning to have doubts.  His thoughts travelled back to the phone call a week before.

FLASHBACK

“DiNozzo.”

“Tony?  Jack, Jackson Gibbs.”

“Jack!  Hey, great to hear from you ...”  Tony stuttered to a halt as he remembered how Jackson Gibbs’ wife had died a couple of months before.  “Say, Jack – I’m sorry …”

“I know,” said Jackson.  “Thanks.  And thank you for the floral tribute … Ann would have liked it.”

“Yeah, well … it was the least I could do.  I’m just sorry that I couldn’t be there for the funeral but …”

“I understand,” said Jack.  “And we gave her a good send-off … at least, I could do that for her.”

“How are things?” asked Tony.  “How’s Leroy?”

The sigh was so loud that Tony imagined he could have heard it all the way from Pennsylvania without the phone.

“That bad, huh?” asked Tony.

“Yeah,” said Jackson.  “You know how he loved his Mom.  And he’s so angry.  Angry at me for not stopping it.  Angry at his Mom for getting sick … for dying.  Angry at himself.  He’s never been one for talking … guess he could never get a word in edgewise with me … but now he barely speaks at all.”

“It’s tough,” said Tony sympathetically, “I remember what it was like when my Mom died.  Leroy’s a little older than I was but I don’t know if that makes it easier or harder.”

“I reckon my boy will always make things hard for himself,” said Jackson with a touch of mordant humour.

“And for everyone around him,” said Tony.  There was a silence at the other end of the phone and Tony wondered what else to say.  “You’ll get there …”

“I need a favour,” said Jackson.

“Name it,” said Tony promptly.

“Don’t be so quick,” said Jackson.  “You haven’t heard what it is yet.”

“You’ve been there for me, Jack,” said Tony.  “So, name it.”

“I have to go to Canada.  For a week, maybe ten days.  Ann’s cousin Lyddie is in trouble – at least, she says she is.  Ann would have wanted me to go; she always looked out for her.”

“I see,” said Tony although he didn’t.

“I can’t take Leroy with me.  Not the way he is.  And I can’t leave him home alone and none of the neighbours will want to watch him for me.  Let’s just say he’s developed a reputation.”

“You want me to take him?” asked Tony.

“I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way,” said Jackson.  “I know it’s a lot to ask …”

“Hey,” said Tony, conscious of a sinking feeling, “I said I’d do it.  I’ve got the time … does he like movies?”  Jackson’s bark of laughter was answer enough.  “No worries, we’ll think of something.”

“You sure about this?” asked Jackson.

“I said so, didn’t I?”

END FLASHBACK

Now, Tony smiled back at Jackson as he apologised about his son’s behaviour.  Tony might have wished that Jackson had asked for some other type of favour but he would not refuse the request.  The friendship between Jackson and Tony was an unlikely one and had started one summer when Tony’s father had rented a large house near Stillwater as a place of retreat and rest.  With the benefit of twenty-five years of hindsight, Tony could see that it was also a cheap place to lay low from insistent business partners.  Tony had been an unhappy child still mourning the loss of his mother and still hoping that his father might one day notice the sad shadow trailing after him.

There hadn’t been much for Tony to do in the holiday home: it had been fitted out for adults but no provision made for occupying a child.  Tony had taken to visiting the general store each day and had found in Jackson Gibbs something of a kindred spirit.  Jackson loved to talk but he also listened and could see what was going on beneath a person’s skin.  He allowed Tony to chatter away and soon the youngster was talking about his sorrow and loneliness as he found a father figure at last.

The friendship had continued.  Tony was usually able to finish camp early each year and go to Stillwater for two or three weeks.  His father didn’t care, it was a cheap and easy solution to finding somewhere for his son and he never thought to ask what Tony found so appealing about a sleepy mining town in Pennsylvania.  The friendship was deep, real and gratifying to both parties but Tony always had a sense of abiding gratitude to the kind man who had taken the time to get to know a sad, lonely child and for that Tony was willing to put up with another sad child.

“What time’s your flight?” Tony asked.

Jackson looked at his watch.  “Gotta go now,” he said.  “Leroy!” he called.

Somehow Tony wasn’t surprised that the boy didn’t make an appearance.  He took a step towards the room but Jackson shook his head and went and knocked on the door.

“Leroy.  I have to go now.  Come out, why don’t you and say goodbye.”

A few seconds passed before the door opened slowly and Leroy appeared.

“I gotta go now, son,” said Jackson.  “You be good for Tony; you hear?”  There was a barely perceptible nod.  “I’ll phone when I get there,” continued Jackson.  He put his hands on his son’s shoulders, “You know I love you, don’t you, boy?”  There was no answer and Jackson simply enfolded him in his arms and dropped a kiss on his hair.  He sighed softly as Leroy endured the hug.  With one final pat on the head, he turned away and shook hands with Tony.  “I’ll be in touch,” he promised.

“We’ll be fine,” said Tony with more hope than confidence.

“No, don’t come down with me,” said Jackson, “I’ve got the rental downstairs.”  He took one more look at his son who gazed back stonily and then he was gone.

Tony stared at the closed door for a moment and then steeled himself.  “You hungry?” he asked.  He guessed that Leroy was going to shake his head but his stomach rumbled loudly.  “Guess that’s a yes,” he said.  “Come into the kitchen.  We’ll see what I’ve got.”  Leroy followed with his customary reluctance.

Tony pointed to a stool and, after a couple of seconds, Leroy climbed on to it.

“What do you want?” asked Tony.

Leroy shrugged.

“I could make you a sandwich,” suggested Tony.  “There’s some corned beef or some pastrami.  What do you want?”

Leroy shrugged again.

Tony held on to his patience.  “I’m not a mind reader, Leroy.  You need to tell me what you want.”

“I don’t like Leroy.”

“Oh,” this was unexpected.  “Your Dad calls you Leroy.”

Leroy stared back and Tony felt as if a hole had opened up before him.

“OK, then what do you like to be called.  LJ?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Gibbs.”

Tony laughed.  “I’m not calling you Gibbs.”

“Why not?  It’s my name.”

“You’re just a boy.”

“That’s what they’ll call me in the Marines.”

“Oh.  So you want to be a Marine?”

Leroy nodded.

“Well, you’re not a Marine yet.  And I’m not calling you Gibbs.  Think again.  What about Jethro?”

The boy gave a gesture somewhere between a shrug and a nod.

“Jethro it is,” said Tony.  “So, Jethro, what you want to eat?”

“Don’t care,” said Jethro.

“Fine,” said Tony, “I’ll make one corned beef, one pastrami and we’ll have half each of both.  OK?”  He got another shrug.  “Your Dad said you don’t talk much,” said Tony.

“Nothing to talk about,” said Jethro.

Tony opened the fridge door and thought about asking the boy what drink he wanted but decided simply to pour some milk.

“Don’t like milk,” said Jethro.

“Builds your bones,” said Tony.  “Marines need strong bones,” he added a little meanly.

“So do steaks,” said Jethro firmly.

“Fair enough,” said Tony.  “Want a soda?”  He found he was beginning to interpret the kid’s gestures: obviously sodas didn’t make the grade.  “Juice?” he asked and, receiving a more positive nod, pushed the bottle and a glass towards him.

Jethro managed to make the eating and drinking look like a chore although he was careful not actually to be rude.  Part of Tony wanted to admire the nuanced behaviour while the other part wanted to roll the clock back to before the phone call from Jackson.

“Time to hit the rack,” announced Tony when sandwiches had been dispatched and there was no suggestion that the boy was going to say anything.

Jethro looked at his host as if trying to gauge if this was a battle worth fighting but a huge yawn gave him away and he rolled off his stool readily enough.  As he walked towards his bedroom he stopped at the sight of something in the corner of the living area,

“You play?” he asked.

It was the first time that Jethro had initiated a conversation and Tony felt it was a small breakthrough even if he did suspect that it was a delaying tactic.  He followed Jethro’s eyes and saw that he was looking, not at the baby grand piano, but at the battered guitar.

“Sure,” Tony replied, “Not much now, not recently.”

Jethro nodded.

“Do you play?” asked Tony, hoping to find some common ground.

“Not really,” said Jethro and he shrugged.

This shrug had something a little wistful about it so Tony was encouraged, “Do you _want_ to learn to play?” he asked.

“I was in a class,” said Jethro.

“Good,” said Tony.

“But not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I got kicked out.”

“Oh.”  Tony wondered if it was because of the behavioural problems hinted at by Jackson.  He began to consider if it would be possible to persuade the school to let him back in if they knew about his bereavement.  “When did you kicked out?” he asked gently.

“Dunno.  Six, seven months ago.”

This was before Ann Gibbs had died but Tony was sure the Gibbs household had been tense for some time before.

“Did anyone tell you why you got kicked out?” asked Tony.

The shrug this time was a blend of embarrassment and anger.  “I got into a fight over Melinda-Mae.”

“Melinda-Mae?”

“She’s a girl.”

“I thought she might be.  What happened?”

“Jason Maloney started talking to her.”

“And?”

“And she didn’t like it?”

“ _She_ didn’t like it?” asked Tony.

“That’s what I said.”

“You didn’t mind this Jason talking to her?”

The shrug seemed to be genuinely indifferent this time.  “Didn’t matter to me.  But it mattered to her.”

“So you got into a fight?”

“Yes.”

“And kicked out of the class?”

“Yes.”

“Did you explain why the fight started?”

“Yes.  But nobody listens to me.”

“Doesn’t seem fair,” commented Tony.

“Nothing’s fair,” said Jethro.

Tony thought about suggesting he talk to Jackson about appealing to the school but somehow he thought that might open a whole can of worms about not being listened to.

“I could teach you to play,” he offered, wondering if he would be able to.

“Nah,” said Jethro.

“But if you want to learn to play … after all you joined a class,” pressed Tony.

A gleam of humour shone in the boy’s face for the first time, “Nah, it’s OK.  I only joined because Josephine was in the class.”

“I see,” said Tony faintly.

“And it’s OK.  Because she’s joined the modelling class,” said Jethro.

“Modelling?” asked Tony thinking that the Stillwater schools might be more broadminded than he would have expected.

“Gateway to Technology design and modelling,” said Jethro with exaggerated patience.

“You know, that makes a whole lot more sense,” said Tony.  “OK, see you in the morning.  My room’s across from yours.  Call if you need anything.”

Jethro shrugged in a way that suggested he would never need anything from Tony and slouched towards his room.  Tony resisted the temptation to tell him that Marines walked tall and proud and settled for saying good night.  Unexpectedly, he found himself smiling although, after only a couple of hours with Jethro, he was exhausted.  Somehow he felt that the next few days might be trying as well as tiring.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite his tiredness Tony did not sleep well that night and it seemed he had only just dropped off to sleep when he was awoken by strange creakings and thumpings from somewhere in the apartment.  It took him a moment or two to remember that he had a house guest and then he lay in bed wondering if he should investigate – did he really want to know what Jethro was up to?  Tony realised, however, that the noise would probably disturb the occupier of the neighbouring apartment who seemed to have the hearing of a bat.  Tony groaned and rolled out of bed before going to knock on Jethro’s door,

“Jethro!  You OK in there?”

There was the customary pause before he got a reply and he was about to knock again when he heard a breathless voice say,

“Yeah.”

“OK,” said Tony reluctantly, “Keep it down, will you.  Mr Simpson next door to you gets tetchy if he’s woken up.”

A grunt echoed through the door and Tony decided to take that for assent.  He turned to walk back to bed when a loud crash sounded.  Tony rushed into the room to find Jethro lying on the floor with a disgusted look on his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” demanded Tony.

Jethro shrugged.

“Why are you on the floor?  Did you fall out of bed?”

“No,” said Jethro in an offended tone.

“Then what happened?”

Jethro stared crossly at Tony but recognised that an answer was required, “I was doing decline push ups.”

“What?”

“Decline push ups.  You put your feet on the bed …”

“I know what they are,” said Tony, “Why are you doing them?  And why are you doing them at …” Tony looked at the bedside clock, “At 0600?”

“I need to get fit,” said Jethro.

“Why?”

“To get into the Marines.”

“At 0600?” whined Tony.

“It’s when I get up at home,” said Jethro.

“Did you hurt yourself?” asked Tony.

The reply was a contemptuous shrug.

“You know, you should put your feet on a stable platform to do those,” said Tony.  “The bed’s not stable.”

“It is soft,” agreed Jethro.

Tony decided it was too early in the morning to get into a discussion about his own pampered way of life, “I need coffee,” he groaned.

“I could go for some coffee,” said Jethro hopefully.

“You allowed to have coffee?” asked Tony sceptically.

“Sure,” said Jethro.

“You can have one cup,” said Tony sternly.  He detected the beginnings of a shoulder movement, “Take it or leave it,” he added.  “I’ll put the coffee on.  You can use the bathroom first.”  Tony strode out of the room before any more shrugs could manifest themselves.  Jethro watched him go and then rubbed his bruised elbows with a grimace.

Tony made the coffee considerably weaker than usual and watched with fascination to see how his guest would react to the cream, sugar and hazelnut creamer he had put out.  Somehow he wasn’t surprised when Jethro started drinking without adding any embellishments.

“Let me guess,” said Tony, “Marines take it black?”

This time he got a nod rather than a shrug.

“You sure you don’t want some cream or sugar?” asked Tony suspecting that Jethro was stifling a grimace at the taste of the coffee.  “I made it stronger than usual,” he lied, “And it’s a new blend – very bitter.”

“Well,” said Jethro, “In that case I might take some sugar … and some cream.”

“Good idea,” said Tony gravely.  “Now, what do you want for breakfast?”  He sensed the stare building, “Tell you what, I’m going to make some eggs and toast.  If you don’t want that there’s cereal in the cabinet or you can have some oatmeal.”  Tony stared back at Jethro and there was the customary weighing of options,

“Scrambled?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” said Tony, “I don’t like them fried.  They look like …”

“Eyes,” said Jethro.

“Yeah, sort of staring up at you from the plate.”  Tony found himself humming a little tune as he went into the kitchen: he had bonded with the kid over eggs and, more importantly, his bluff over having oatmeal in his kitchen hadn’t been called.

Tony considered himself one of the most sociable people on the planet but he drew the line at conversation over breakfast.  Somehow he wasn’t surprised that Jethro didn’t want to make small talk either.  They ate their food in something approaching an amicable silence but when the food was gone Tony realised decisions had to be made.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“Can I use your laptop?” asked Jethro.

Tony blinked, somehow he hadn’t pegged the kid for a being a computer enthusiast.  “Sure,” he said, “What do you want to do on it?  Some game you play?”

The offended shrug had returned, “No,” he said scornfully.

“You need to message some friends?” asked Tony hopefully.

The shrug tried to convey indifference to the thought of friends back home but, to Tony’s eyes, there was something a little sad about it.

“Then what do you want to use the laptop for?” asked Tony.  A horrible thought struck him but before he could tactfully inform Jethro that he would make sure that _adult sites_ were blocked, Jethro replied,

“I want to look on the Marines’ website,” said Jethro.

“You do?  Why?”

“to keep up-to-date,” said Jethro earnestly.  “They have all sorts of cool stuff on there.  And they post a daily workout.”

“I see,” said Tony, “You know those workouts will be designed for serving Marines. _You_ can’t expect to do them.”  He received a stony glare for that remark.  He looked out the window and saw that it was raining.  “How about going to the Marine Corps Museum this morning?”

“Great!” said Jethro.  “I mean, OK.”

Tony grinned and then grimaced when he looked at the time.  Look, it’s 0700, it doesn’t open till 0900.  You do the washing up while I go get ready.  I’ll log you on to the laptop when I come out.  You can do your research before we go.”

Jethro nodded agreement and set to clearing up the kitchen with more enthusiasm than care for Tony’s expensive dinnerware.

NCISNCIS

“So,” said Tony as he and Jethro sat in the Devil Dog Diner eating lunch a few hours later, “Why a Marine?”

“Huh?” asked Jethro.  He seemed to be in a daze from a morning soaking up the history of the Marine Corps and now he was looking at the pictures of Marines which adorned the walls of the diner.

“Why do you want to be a Marine?” repeated Tony.

“LJ,” said Jethro.

“LJ?”

“Leroy Jethro Moore.  I was named after him.”

“And he was a Marine?”

“Yeah.”

“And he made you want to be a Marine?” asked Tony.

“He didn’t _make_ me,” said Jethro in a tone which suggested nobody could _make_ him do anything.

“What then?” asked Tony.  “Did he talk to you about being a Marine.”

Jethro finished chewing a bite of his burger before dragging his eyes from the photos and replying, “He didn’t talk much about it.  Guess that’s what made me want to know more.”

Tony nodded, somehow this made sense for this odd boy.  “So, what’s the plan?  College first?”

“No!”

“You not going to college?  Guessing you don’t want to be an officer then?”

There was no shrug just a scornful look, “I’m going to work for a living!”

“What?”

“Officers don’t work,” said Jethro.

“Who told you that?” asked Tony.

The shrug was the only answer.

“OK,” said Tony, “So you’ll go in straight after high school?”  Jethro looked discontented.  “You need a high school diploma,” added Tony.

“I guess.”

“No guessing about it,” said Tony, “The Corps won’t let you in without one.”

“I know,” said Jethro.

“What does your Dad think about it?”

“Nothing to do with him,” said Jethro.

“It will be if you join at 17,” said Tony, “You’ll need his permission.”

“He won’t care.”

“What does that mean?  Of course he’ll care!  He’s your father,” said Tony.

For a moment Tony thought this was going to be another question that didn’t get an answer but the boy put down his burger and said stonily, “He doesn’t care.  He cares about other people, not me.”

“You know why he’s gone to Canada,” said Tony.  “He’s gone to help your Mom’s cousin out.”

“Yeah, always other people,” said Jethro, “Not me and not my Mom.”  There was a wealth of bitterness in the words and Tony felt at a loss to know what to say.  “Can we go?” asked Jethro.  “I want to go to the _Making Marines_ exhibit.”

“Sure,” said Tony hoping there were seats available for those visitors who were less focussed than people like Jethro.

Some hours later Tony dragged a reluctant Jethro away from the museum.  The motivational talk from a Marine Corps recruiter along with the chance to put on a fully loaded pack and test his aim on a laser rifle range had, momentarily, at least stunned the boy into something like chattiness.  “Did you see me?” he asked.  “I aced the rifle range.  They said I showed real talent.  And I reckon I could have held that pack for a lot longer.”

Tony smiled, “Yeah, you did good.  You got your mug?”

Jethro grinned back, “Yes.  Thanks for buying it for me,” he clutched the bag containing a Marines mug a little tighter.

“You’re welcome,” said Tony suppressing an impulse to ruffle the kid’s hair.  Somehow he didn’t think it would be a welcome gesture.

NCISNCIS

“Want to watch some football?” asked Tony when they got home.  He looked towards the kitchen but decided that a day of museum visiting had worn him out too much to consider cooking.  “We’ll order some takeout.”

“Can we watch baseball?” asked Jethro.

“Sure,” said Tony.  He threw the remote to Jethro, “Find something you want to watch.”  He rested his eyes for a moment and the next thing he was aware of was Jethro saying thank you to someone and the smell of cooked food wafting through the apartment.  “What?” he said groggily.

“I ordered,” said Jethro.  “You were asleep.”

Tony was about to deny this but a glance at his watch showed that somehow an hour had passed since they got home.  “Huh,” he said, “Where did you order from?”

“Julio’s.”

“They’re my favourite,” said Tony, “How’d you know?”

“The menu was pinned to your fridge with some others but that one was on top and it looked the most used.”

“Huh,” said Tony again.  “What you order?”

“Pepperoni and onion pizza.  And a soda.”

“Oh,” said Tony.

“And a pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese one for you,” added Jethro.

“Ah,” said Tony in a contented voice, “How …”

“I asked the guy at the other end what you usually had,” said Jethro.

“Good job,” said Tony.  “And good observational skills too.”

The shrug implied modesty but pleasure.

“You know,” said Tony after a mouthful or two of pizza, “I could help with the getting fit gig.”

Jethro didn’t stop eating and just looked sceptical.

“Phys Ed major,” said Tony, “I know about fitness regimes.”

Jethro stared at him and there was a hint of a raised eyebrow.  Tony realised that he was thinking that someone who had to crash after a day’s sightseeing was probably not the best role model for fitness.  With a sigh he remembered that he had insisted on using the elevator wherever possible when going around the museum and knew that his fitness credentials were lacking.

“There’s a gym in the basement,” Tony suggested.

“Huh,” said Jethro.  He looked a little embarrassed, “Not keen on basements.”

“What?  Why?”

The shrug was not unexpected.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Tony asked.  He suspected that Jethro would suggest a return visit to the Marine Corps museum but instead his eyes travelled to his bedroom.  “Fishing?” suggested Tony as he divined that Jethro was thinking about his fishing rod.

“Sure,” said Gibbs casually although his eyes lit up.  Then he added, “You fish?”

“Not for a while,” admitted Tony.  He paused before adding, “I used to go with my Dad.  Sea fishing mostly.  Good times.”  This statement did not draw any comment from Jethro.  “You go fishing with your Dad?” he asked.

“Jackson doesn’t have much time for fishing,” said Jethro.

“ _Jackson_?  You call your Dad, Jackson?”

Tony thought that Jethro’s shoulders must be amongst the fittest in DC the number of times he used them to shrug.  “It’s his name,” said Jethro inarguably.

There was no denying this and Tony decided not to try.  Perhaps a day out in the open fishing would soften the boy towards him.

“OK,” said Tony.  “We’ll go to Mattawoman Creek.  It’s a good spot.”

Jethro looked impressed, “What sort of fish do they have there?”

“Uh, ones with scales … and gills,” said Tony inadequately.

The impressed look faded and Jethro turned back to the baseball game.

A couple of hours later Tony decided it was time for bed,

“Hey,” he said, “Try not to get up so early tomorrow?  Or at least, keep the noise down.  I don’t want the tenants’ committee getting on to me.”

Once again, Tony did not sleep well and only dozed off after several hours.  He was pleasantly surprised when he did get up to find that Jethro’s bedroom door was still closed but he was less pleased when he went into the bathroom to find that his razor showed signs of use.  He sighed and went and knocked on the guest bedroom door, wondering if this was going to a ritual for each day of Jethro’s stay.

“Yeah?” came the reluctant answer.

“You OK in there?” asked Tony.

“Sure.”

Tony smiled to himself.  He could remember a time when he tried shaving well before he needed to.  He reassured himself that there had been no blood in the bathroom which suggested the kid hadn’t hurt himself.  “Making breakfast,” he called through the door.

Fifteen minutes later, he was still waiting for Jethro to appear.  He knocked on the door again, “Eggs are getting cold,” he said.

Another ten minutes passed and the eggs had congealed on the cold, now soggy, toast.  Tony was about to call again when the door opened and Jethro emerged.

“You cold?” asked Tony.

“No.”

“Why the hat?”

Inevitably, Jethro shrugged as he tried to imply that it was perfectly normal to be wearing a baseball hat indoors.

“Take it off,” ordered Tony.

Jethro glared at him but then, reluctantly took the hat off.

“Shi- “, began Tony as he gazed at Jethro’s unevenly shorn head.  He rapidly decided against making Jethro any fresh breakfast.  “Guess our first visit today is the barber’s,” he announced.  “I’m not going out with you looking like that.”

There was a mixture of chagrin and relief on Jethro’s face.  Tony sighed as he realised there were still at least five days of Jethro’s visit to go.


	3. Chapter 3

The trip to the barbershop was accomplished in silence.  The barber managed to keep a straight face and Tony got the feeling this wasn’t the first time he’d had to fix a homemade haircut.  Jethro left the shop with a brutal, but neat, trim and made a reasonable job of hiding the fact that his ears were feeling cold.

It took about an hour to get to Mattawoman Creek and, when they got there, Tony parked the car as close as possible to the water.  Jethro jumped out, grabbed his bag and fishing rod and ran to the information point to read about the fish found in the area.  For some reason he needed to know more than that they had scales and gills.

“Ready?” asked Tony after allowing the boy to absorb the information.

Jethro nodded and then looked surprised to see that Tony was carrying bulky equipment of his own.  “You going to fish?” he asked.

“Nope,” said Tony.  He saw Jethro staring at his pack and said, “I’m going to paint.”

“Paint?”

“Sure.  My ther … friend recommended it.  It’s kinda soothing.”

Jethro looked at him suspiciously but, inevitably, simply shrugged.

“This way,” said Tony and walked towards the bank.  “Pick a spot,” he said as he began to put up his easel.

“Looks old,” commented Jethro who seemed intrigued at the thought of Tony being an artist.  He pointed at the easel.

“My great uncle Clive died a few months back.  He left it to me,” said Tony.  “I haven’t been painting long.”

Jethro nodded and turned his attention to setting up his own position.  A few minutes later Tony looked across at the boy and grinned when he saw that he was completely focussed on what he was doing and almost looked happy.  A couple of hours passed and Tony went over to Jethro with the offer of a drink and a snack.  Jethro looked a little discontentedly at the water which had so far failed to provide him with a catch and walked back with Tony.  He looked at Tony’s painting and frowned slightly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Tony who had been rather pleased with his view of the creek.

“Why didn’t you just take a photo?” replied Jethro.

“Huh?” said Tony in surprise.  “What you mean?”

Jethro pointed at the painting.  “You’re painting what you see.”

“Yes?”

“You’re trying to paint exactly what you see.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” asked Tony.

Jethro shrugged, “I guess, but …”

“But what?” asked Tony beginning to be intrigued by Jethro’s reaction.

“I don’t know but I figure a painting is something done by a person.”

“Go on.”

“Then shouldn’t it have something that shows it’s done by a person?”

“You mean it should be less than perfect?” asked Tony.

“Oh, it’s not perfect,” said Jethro bluntly as he looked at Tony’s easel.

“Guess I walked into that one,” said Tony ruefully.  “What do you mean then, that it should like something done by a person?”

“If you want something accurate, then take a photo,” said Jethro as he tried to explain, “If you want to paint something it should have something of how _you_ see things, your view of it … I don’t know, I’m not explaining it right.”

“No,” said Tony slowly, “I think I get it.  You think a painting should have the artist’s interpretation, not just be accurate.”

“Yeah … something like that.  I want to be able to tell if something’s a photo or a painting,” said Jethro.

“Interesting,” said Tony, “I’ll have to think about that.  I guess my instinct is to record what’s in front of me.  You may be right.”  He looked at Jethro thoughtfully.

Jethro, however, was bored with the conversation.  “You said something about a snack?” he asked hopefully.

“Help yourself,” said Tony.

Jethro wolfed down the cookies he had chosen and went back to his fishing pole with a drink.  Tony looked at his painting and decided to try again.  Two hours passed and he called out to Jethro to come and have lunch.  Jethro came and stood by the easel.

“What do you think?” asked Tony.

“What is it?” asked Jethro.

“It’s my impression of the water … and that tree over there,” said Tony.

“It is?”

“Yeah.  I’ve tried to capture the light dancing off the water.  And the shadow of the branches.”

“Perhaps you should stick with what you were doing before,” said Jethro.

“Everyone’s a critic,” said Tony.  “You catch anything?”

“Nope,” said Jethro.

“Guess that’s a work in progress too,” said Tony.

“It’s OK,” said Jethro philosophically.  “Fishing’s not all about catching fish.”

“That sounds very Zen,” said Tony.

“Huh?”

“You know, meditative, accepting …”

“What?” said Jethro blankly.  “What’s for lunch?”

Tony sighed, decided to abandon a discussion about a subject he didn’t know much about and handed Jethro a bag of food.

“Why do you like fishing then if you don’t care if you don’t catch anything?” he asked.

“I didn’t say I don’t _care_ ,” said Jethro.  “But it’s not the end of the world.”

“That’s good,” said Tony drily, “As you don’t seem to be catching anything.”

“I like the … process,” said Jethro.

“Go on,” said Tony.

“It’s the whole thing.  Setting up, thinking of a strategy, trying to think what will work.  And it feels honest.”

“Honest?”

“You know, you listen to the world around.  Hear the birds sing, crickets chirping … all the sounds that you don’t hear when people are around talking.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” said Tony.

“I can think,” protested Jethro.

“I know,” said Tony.  “Why did you use the word _honest_?”

“It’s just a word.”

“I know that too.  But it was an interesting choice of word.”

Jethro looked longingly at the water’s edge but decided to answer, “Doesn’t seem to me that there’s much that _is_ honest.”

“That’s kinda cynical,” commented Tony.

“Huh?”

“You know, distrustful ... thinking the worst of things and people.”

“Sounds about right,” said Jethro.

“You’re young to think like that,” said Tony.

Jethro stared at him bleakly, “You think people are honest?”

“Not always,” admitted Tony, “But yeah, mostly I reckon they are.”

“Maybe they are with you,” said Jethro, “But they’re not with me.”

“Who’s not been truthful with you?” asked Tony wondering if he was beginning to get to what was eating away at the boy.

“You, for one,” said Jethro.

“Me?  When I have lied to you?” asked Tony.

“I didn’t say you’d _lied_ to me,” said Jethro.

“Then what?”

“But you haven’t told me the truth.”

“You sure you want to be a Marine?” asked Tony.

“What?” asked Jethro, surprised at the apparent change of subject.

“Way you use words, I reckon you’d make a good lawyer!”

“Lawyer!” exclaimed Jethro in disgust, “You don’t want to get involved with _lawyers_.”

Tony blinked at his vehemence but decided not to get side-tracked from what might be more important, “So what haven’t I told you the truth about?” he asked.

“Why you’re painting,” said Jethro.

“I told you … it was recommended.”

“By your ther … friend,” said Jethro scornfully.  “You were going to tell me something and you changed your mind.”

“Oh,” said Tony, “Oh, I see.  Well, I didn’t think it was important.”

“’Cos I’m just a kid,” shrugged Jethro.

Tony thought for a moment, “I guess.  But it’s not something I wanted to talk about.”

“So, I’m meant to talk about things but you don’t have to,” said Jethro.

“Fair enough,” said Tony recognising that if he wanted the kid to open up to him he might need to reciprocate.  “It was my therapist who recommended I do some painting, thought it would be good for me, relaxing.”

Jethro nodded, “OK.  He might be wrong.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t look as if you were relaxing.  You were frowning,” said Jethro.

“That may be my way of unwinding,” said Tony.  He received a sceptical look.  “Hey, I was relaxed to start with.  Until my art critic weighed in with his opinion.”

Jethro shrugged, “You should believe in what you’re doing.  Didn’t have to take any notice of what I said.”

Tony laughed, “You’re absolutely right,” and in the pursuit of honesty added, “And actually I did enjoy doing the impressionistic stuff.”

“You did?” asked Jethro.  “Takes all sorts, I guess,” and he walked back to his fishing.

Tony gave a shrug of his own and returned to his impressionistic painting but soon the nights of broken sleep caught up with him and he laid down on the grass and fell asleep.  He was woken sometime later by an excited yell from Jethro as he finally landed a Largemouth Bass.

“You caught something!” praised Tony.

Jethro glared at Tony who felt a little sheepish at having stated the obvious but then the excitement of finally catching something prevailed and the boy began to explain in great detail how he had had to battle to get the fish to shore.

“Hold it,” ordered Tony, “I’ll take a picture.”

Jethro stood proudly holding the 12-inch fish and his grin was almost as long as his catch.  Tony wondered what would happen next, he wasn’t sure if he knew how to gut a fish and hoped that Jethro wouldn’t want to stuff it.

“I’ll put it back,” said Jethro after a few seconds.

“You will?” said Tony hoping to disguise his relief.

“Sure, he’s too small to eat,” and he gently removed the hook.

“You sure you want to throw him back?”

Jethro looked offended, “I won’t _throw_ him back.  I’ll put him back in the water very gently.  Don’t want to hurt him.”

Tony felt suitably chastised and decided not to point out that perhaps the fish had already been hurt by being yanked out of the water on a hook and left to gasp for a considerable length of time.

“We could send a copy of the photo to your Dad,” suggested Tony.

“Nah.  He won’t be interested,” said Jethro bleakly.

Tony decided not to argue beyond saying, “You might be wrong.  You want to carry on fishing or should we head back?”

“Whatever,” said Jethro.

“Light’s not going to last much longer,” said Tony, “Looks as if it’s coming on to rain.  We’ll head back.”

Jethro nodded although he cast a wistful look at the water.  Tony suspected that, having eaten all the food he had brought with him, the boy was hungry once again but wouldn’t want to admit it.

“You like Italian?” he asked.

“Italian what?” asked Jethro.

“Italian food,” said Tony.  “We could eat out.”

“’Kay.”

NCISNCIS

The waitresses at Tony’s favourite Italian restaurant cooed over his companion and, surprisingly, Jethro allowed them to do so for a while.

“Bambino, you are so cute,” said Sofia.

“Have you been sick, Bambino?” asked Francesca.

Tony was anxious, had he missed some sign of illness in his guest?  “Sick?” he asked.  “You didn’t say anything, Jethro.”

“I’m fine,” said Jethro looking a little restive.

“But your hair,” said Vittoria stroking the shorn head, “It is so short.  Did you have to have it cut off when you were sick?”

Jethro scowled and Tony breathed a sigh of relief, “No, he’s not been sick.  Just … adventurous with my razor.”

“Mamma mia,” said Sofia placidly.  “Boys!  I will go get your food.”

Two large bowls of spaghetti produced a sense of camaraderie between the two diners.  It was the first time Jethro had eaten spaghetti and it took him a while to learn the technique from watching Tony but both were spattered with Bolognese sauce by the end and Jethro seemed to find this funny.

“I enjoyed today,” he said unexpectedly.

Tony almost choked on his glass of wine, “Thanks,” he said, “I enjoyed it too.”  He raised the glass in toast to Jethro and felt a surge of affection for him.

“So,” said Jethro, “Why have you got a therapist?”

This time Tony did choke.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Jackson Gibbs looked at the caller ID on his cell,

“Hey, Tony.  How you doing?”

“Dad!”

“Leroy!  Good to hear from you.  How’s the beach?” asked Jackson.

“It’s Tony.  He’s sick.  And it’s my fault,” said Jethro.

PREVIOUSLY

By the time Tony had stopped choking Jethro had been diverted from his question about Tony’s therapist by the arrival of a large portion of tiramisu.

“You’ll like it,” gasped Tony, “It’s coffee flavour.”  He crossed his fingers as he hoped that the waitress had brought a non-alcoholic version.

Jethro scrutinised the unfamiliar dessert with his customary scepticism but it seemed to pass some sort of test and he took a spoonful.  And then another and another in rapid succession.  All thoughts of cross questioning Tony disappeared.

Later that evening, however, Jethro’s words about honesty returned to Tony and he considered whether they might provide an opening for him to speak to Jethro.  He had a feeling that Jackson hoped that Tony might get through to the boy in a way that he had failed.  He waited until an advert came on during yet another baseball game and then began,

“You know, I lost my Mom when I was about eight.”

Jethro turned away from the screen and looked at him briefly before turning back as if he was absorbed in the merits of a new kind of dishwasher detergent.

“It’s tough,” said Tony.

“You think you know how I feel?” asked Jethro still staring at the transformation from dirty plates to sparkling clean.

“No,” said Tony.  “How can I?  We’re all different.  But I guess I can remember how _I_ felt.”

“What did she die of?” asked Jethro.

“She had cancer,” said Tony.  “She’d been ill a few months.”

Jethro turned to look at him.  “My Mom had cancer.”

“I know,” said Tony.

“Where’d she die?”

“In hospital.”

“Were you there?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Huh,” said Jethro.

“Did your Mom go to the hospital?” asked Tony gently.

“No.”

“Oh.  So she died at home?”

“Yeah.”

“That can be good,” said Tony.  “Some folks like it that way.  You know, being someplace familiar.  With people around.”

“Hmm.”  Jethro’s attention returned to the screen.

“You can talk to me about it,” said Tony, “You know, about your Mom dying.”

“Thanks,” said Jethro in a tone of voice which more than suggested he had no intention of doing so.

“I was pretty mad with my Mom for dying,” ventured Tony.  “Guess you feel the same.”

“Did your Mom love you?” asked Jethro still staring at the screen which was now showing the dishwasher detergent family exclaiming as they sat around a dinner table loaded with gleaming plates and set for a party.

“Yeah,” said Tony, “She did.”

“All the time?”

Tony was surprised by the question and had to think about it for a moment or two, “I guess.  Well, most of the time.  I was probably quite annoying sometimes but all kids are.”

The TV family welcomed in some elderly people who looked like grandparents and they all hugged one another before exclaiming in delight at the sight of the table.

“You’re lucky then,” said Jethro.

“Jethro?”

“Nothing.”

“Looking back, I guess my Dad was sad too … he might have been mad too.  But I couldn’t see it,” tried Tony.

A birthday cake was brought in by detergent Mom and there was a happy cheer.

“Did he blame you?” asked Jethro.

“Blame me?  For what?”

“Your Mom dying?”

“No.  Why would he blame me?” asked Tony.

One of the TV kids looked anxiously at his dirty plate but TV Mom smiled and they all joined together in loading the dishwasher with the used china and the moment of crisis passed.  The whole family went into the garden leaving the washer to deal with the grime.  All was well in TV family land.

“No reason,” said Jethro.

“Jethro, do you think your Dad blames you for your Mom dying?” asked Tony.

Jethro shrugged.

“That’s crazy,” said Tony.  “Like you said, your Mom had cancer.  How was that your fault?”

“You know why Mom died at home?” asked Jethro.

“No.  But like I said, some people prefer that.  And sometimes it just happens that way.”

“Mom killed herself,” said Jethro bleakly.

Several things fell into place for Tony.  He had known that Ann Gibbs was ill but Jackson’s call to say she had died had taken him by surprise: he hadn’t had the impression that the end was that near.  And there had been something in Jackson’s voice which suggested that there was something unexpected about the death.

“How do you know?” asked Tony.

Jethro shrugged again.  “I could tell.  The way people were.  You know, embarrassed, whispering in corners.  Some folks didn’t come to the funeral.  In Stillwater everyone goes to funerals.  You should know, _you_ didn’t come.”

“Not for that reason,” said Tony.  “I swear.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Jethro.

“Did your Dad tell you?”

“Nope.  He just said it was the cancer that killed her.”

“It was, Jethro.”

“No, it wasn’t.  She killed herself,” said Jethro.

“Maybe, but that’s not your fault,” said Tony.

“It must be,” said Jethro.  “I must have done something bad.  She didn’t love me so she decided to end it.  You just said that all kids are annoying … well, I must have been really annoying … and it made her kill herself.”

“That’s not true,” said Tony.

“How’d you know?” demanded Jethro.

“Because … because your Mom was really ill.  And she was probably tired and frightened … worried about being a burden to you and your Dad.  She probably thought she was helping you.”

“If she’d loved me, she’d have stayed,” said Jethro.  “I didn’t want her to go.  I’d have done anything … if I’d been a better son, she wouldn’t have done it.  It’s my fault!”

“Jethro!  Look at me … I’m sure your Mom loved you but people who are that sick … they do things sometimes which we don’t understand but none of this is your fault.  Have you talked to your Dad about this?  Told him how you feel?”

Jethro sniffed angrily and Tony suspected that tears were threatening to fall, “No!  He didn’t care.  He was real calm about it all.  You know, he’s the sort to cry if a dog dies in a movie but he never cried when Mom died.”

Tony sighed, “Jethro, your Dad loved your Mom.  Remember I said how my Dad was probably sad when Mom died but I couldn’t see it?”

“Yeah.  So?”

“So, he tried to be brave.  I think he thought that if he cried or looked sad it would upset me.  So he tried to hide it and I thought he didn’t care.  I reckon that’s what your Dad has been doing.  He was trying to be brave for you.  He thought he was doing the best thing for you.”

“He never talks about her,” said Jethro.

“I know,” said Tony.  “Sometimes people think it’s too hard to speak about people they’ve lost.”

“But I’d like to talk about her,” said Jethro.   There was a pause, “I’m frightened,” he admitted.

“Of what?”

“Of forgetting her.”

“You won’t forget her,” said Tony.  “Hey, my Mom died when I was eight and I’ve got lots of memories of her.  You’re older than I was, you won’t forget her.”

“I won’t?”

“No, I promise.  And, if you want, you can talk to me about her,” said Tony.

Jethro looked at him thoughtfully before saying, “Nah, that’s OK.  The game’s about to start again,” and he turned his attention back to the game.

Tony realised that the limits of Jethro’s opening up had been reached and he decided not to press any further,

“Fair enough.  But the offer’s always there,” he said.  “You want some cocoa?”

Cocoa was acceptable so Tony went into the kitchen but before he went he risked a pat on Jethro’s shoulder.  His hand wasn’t shrugged off so he decided to take that as a win.

NCISNCIS

Jethro’s problems were not as easily solved as those of the detergent family but Tony thought he detected a slight softening in the boy over the next few days.  It seemed to Tony that he was carrying a slightly lighter burden around with him and might be able to begin mourning his mother in a less complicated way.

The weather was poor over the next few days ruling out any more fishing trips but Tony arranged a visit to the National Navy Museum one day and they visited the National Gallery of Art where Tony tried, with limited success, to steer them towards maritime paintings. 

Jethro might be unbending a little but Tony soon realised that the boy was wilting a little under the pressure of being in a huge city and he began to think that a change of scene was needed.

“Hey,” he said on the Friday morning, “Would you like to go to the beach this weekend?”

Jethro considered this, “How would I get there?” he asked.

“I’d drive us,” said Tony.

“You’re coming too?”

“You think I’d send you off on your own?” asked Tony.

The shrug was back.

“So, what do you think.  There’s a place I’ve stayed before in Bethany Beach.  It’s in Delaware, faces the Atlantic.  Sandy beaches, you can walk for miles, go swimming.”

There was an unexpected light in Jethro’s eyes, “I like the Atlantic.”

“You want to go then?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll check with your Dad.”  Tony was pleased to see that Jethro didn’t tell him that Jackson wouldn’t care as he would have done at the beginning of the week.

“What sort of place will we be staying at?”

“It’s a hotel, right near the beach.  They’ve got a couple of self-contained hut things; we might get one of those.”

“Is it self-catering?” asked Jethro a little worriedly.

“Can be, but I usually go to the hotel for food,” said Tony.

Jethro nodded in relief.  He had got used to Tony’s eggs for breakfast but his cooking skills were limited to say the least.  “Maybe you could bring the guitar,” he suggested.

“You want to learn?”

The shrug was more like a nod this time.

“OK,” said Tony, “We’ll give it a go.”

Jackson was happy for Jethro to go to Delaware and was pleased when his son managed a somewhat stilted conversation with him about his stay in DC.

NCISNCIS

Tony, Jethro and guitar set off mid-morning to get to their ‘hut thing’.  Jethro mostly read a book on US Marines history but was entranced when they accessed the Chesapeake Bay bridge and got amazing views of the water below.

“That was cool,” he breathed when they got back to land.  Tony suspected he would be happy to drive to and fro all day.

“Scares some people,” said Tony.  “They don’t like driving over the bridge.”

“Huh,” said Jethro.  “Doesn’t bother me.”

“Course not,” said Tony.

“So,” said Jethro, “What is it you do?”

“Excuse me?” asked Tony.  It was uncharacteristic for Jethro to join in a conversation let alone introduce a new topic.

“You know, what do you _do?_   I mean, you’re home all day.  Are you rich?”

“I’m not poor,” conceded Tony, “But, no I’m not rich.”

“So what do you do?”

Tony had assumed that Jackson had told his son but he guessed that Jethro was at the self-centred age at which details about your father’s friends weren’t important.  “I’m a federal agent,” he said.

“Federal agent?  Like a cop?”

“That’s right.”

“You work for the FBI?”

Tony winced, “There’s other agencies.  I work for NCIS, that’s …”

He had reckoned without Jethro’s seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of the US Navy and Marine Corps, “Navy Criminal Investigative Service,” said Jethro.

“That’s right.”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Jethro looked almost impressed.

“Hey,” said Tony, “Didn’t you think it was strange that I knew about how you get into the Marine Corps?”  Jethro shook his head.  “Or that we got into the Navy Yard to go to the Navy Museum?  I could just show my creds to get in, other people had to queue.”

“Huh,” said Jethro.  “You on leave then?”

“Kinda,” said Tony.

“What?”

Tony remembered Jethro’s passion for honesty, “I’m on sick leave.  Broke some ribs a few weeks back and it’s taken a while to get back to fitness.”

“Oh,” said Jethro as the reason for Tony’s limited stamina and penchant for elevators and short walks became clearer.  “Is that why …”

“Why I couldn’t come to the funeral?  Yeah.  It had only just happened,” said Tony.

“So your therapist guy is getting you fit again?” asked Jethro.

Tony hesitated, it would be an easy assumption to make.  “Kinda, but NCIS makes you have a psych eval before you go back in the field.”  He sensed Jethro’s confusion, “They make sure your head’s on straight enough after an accident.”

“And yours isn’t?” asked Jethro with alarming readiness to believe Tony wasn’t quite right in the head.

“Getting there,” said Tony.  “It was a scary situation, takes some getting over.”

“Huh,” said Jethro.

“That’s why I haven’t played the guitar for a while,” said Tony, “My ribs don’t like bending over it.  But should be OK to show you what to do.”

“I already know some,” said Jethro in an offended tone.

“Sure you do,” agreed Tony.

NCISNCIS

Tony got a warm welcome from the hotel owners, Ted and Teresa, who were happy to put them in a ‘hut thing’ overlooking the sea.

“Don’t go in the water without me being around,” warned Tony.  “It’s safe enough but there are some currents that can take you by surprise.”

Surprisingly, Jethro nodded acquiescence and Tony realised that he was probably not much accustomed to swimming in the ocean.  They went for a walk along the sandy beach before returning for dinner and then going to bed.  Tony’s ribs were aching after the long drive but, for the first time in weeks, the discomfort didn’t keep him awake and he slept soundly.  He was awoken by shouts coming from outside.

“Help!” shouted Jethro.

Tony raced outside and saw Jethro standing gazing out to sea.

“What is it?” asked Tony.

“There’s someone out there,” pointed Jethro.

The wind was getting up and the sea was a little rough.  Tony peered in the direction that Jethro was pointing and could see a swimmer struggling to make it back to shore.

“Stay here,” he ordered Jethro.  “Watch where I go.  If I get into trouble, go call Ted.”

Jethro nodded and then watched as Tony walked into the sea and then began swimming towards the person in difficulty.  Tony decided to ignore the protests from his ribs and hoped that his breathing would become easier as his lungs adjusted to the unexpected exercise and, for a while, his hopes were fulfilled.  He got into a rhythm and made good progress towards the swimmer.

“You need help?” he asked, stopping to tread water when he got within shouting distance.

The swimmer nodded and swallowed a mouthful of water as he tried to speak.

“Don’t say anything,” ordered Tony.  “Let me do the work.”

The swimmer contented himself with just nodding this time.  Tony resumed swimming and got nearer.  “Let me take you,” he said.  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It was, Tony reflected, almost a model rescue.  The other swimmer didn’t panic but seemed instinctively to trust Tony.  He also had enough energy to kick and help their progress back to shore.  The current was against them, however, and it took more energy than Tony had expected to get back to land but finally he felt sand beneath his feet and they were both able to drag themselves out of the water.

“Thanks,” gasped the other swimmer as he lay panting on the sand.  He looked across and saw that Tony was lying face down on the beach with his eyes closed.  “Hey, kid!” he shouted towards Jethro who was running towards them, “Go get help.  Hurry!”

Ted and Teresa were serving breakfast when Jethro came dashing in.  When they realised what was happening, Ted told Teresa to phone the emergency services while he grabbed towels and water and ran towards the beach.  An ambulance was soon there and Tony was scooped off the beach and rushed to the hospital in Dover.  It was from there that Jethro made his panicked call to Jackson,

“It’s Tony.  He’s sick.  And it’s my fault.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Jethro was sitting miserably in the waiting area of the Dover hospital when someone spoke to him,

“Are you Leroy?  Leroy Gibbs?”

Jethro looked up, “Yeah?”

“Don’t get up, my boy,” said the new arrival kindly.  “In fact, I think I will join you.  If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Who are you?” asked Jethro.

“Forgive me, I should have introduced myself.  I’m Donald Mallard.”

“Mallard?  Like the …”

“Yes, I fear so.  Like the duck.  Most people call me Ducky.  You may do so, if you wish.”

“What …”

“I am one of Anthony’s co-workers.  At NCIS.  I’m the Medical Examiner.”

Jethro jumped up in alarm, “You mean … is Tony … I knew he was sick …”

“Dear me, no,” said Ducky, “Forgive me, I forget that people sometimes feel alarmed when they hear about my job.  No, Anthony is not dead.”

Jethro sank back into his chair and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.  “How did you know …”

Ducky didn’t seem to need to have questions completed.  “How did I know who you are?  Well, Anthony told me that he had a house guest for a few days.  Between you and me, I think you have been good for him.  No doubt he has told you about the reason for his sick leave?”  Jethro nodded, it seemed to be all that Ducky needed.  “Well, I think he was dwelling rather on the circumstances of the injury and chafing somewhat at his enforced inactivity.  Having you in the apartment took his mind off his troubles.”

Ducky beamed at the boy.  “But, perhaps you were wondering how I knew that Anthony was in the hospital?”  Jethro nodded obligingly at this question as well.  “I am named as Anthony’s medical proxy,” he spotted a blank expression on Jethro’s face, “That means that I am empowered to make medical decisions on Anthony’s behalf if he is unable to do so for himself.  It also means that I am notified if he is in the hospital.  Once you told the medical staff here of Anthony’s name and other details I was notified and I made haste to come here.”

“How is he?” asked Jethro.

“Ah,” said Ducky, “Well, I must admit that he is not very well at the moment.  The violent exercise has aggravated his injury.  Fortunately, he has not re-fractured the ribs but he has strained the muscles around them which were beginning to recover well.  The doctors are anxious that he may have swallowed some sea water in the course of the rescue which may lead to non-cardiogenic pulmonary oedema or a pneumothorax.  And there is, of course, the danger that he could develop pneumonia if he is unable to breathe properly.” 

Ducky looked at Jethro who slumped down in his chair at this catalogue of potential dangers.  “But,” he continued more cheerfully, “Anthony is being monitored most closely and all these dangers can be averted with proper medical care.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No.  But I don’t believe that is cause for undue concern although it has been some hours since the … incident.  He put a tremendous strain on his body and I think he is simply exhausted and his body is demanding the respite it needs.”

Jethro frowned as he tried to translate Ducky’s words, “So you think he’ll be OK?”

“Anthony is a very tough and determined young man,” said Ducky, “I have every expectation that he will make a full recovery.”  He crossed his fingers out of sight from Jethro.  “And now, my lad, I feel the need for some refreshment.  I travelled from Washington at a more precipitate rate than I am accustomed to employ.”  He looked at Jethro who was once again looking blank, “I came here very quickly,” he explained, “And I need something to eat and drink.  Would you care to join me?”  He saw Jethro looked worriedly at the door to Tony’s room.  “You need have no fear.  The medical staff will alert us if there is any change in Anthony’s condition.  He is in the best of hands.  You may stand down from your watch for a little while.”

“I wasn’t watching,” said Jethro.

“Of course not,” agreed Ducky placidly.  “Now, shall we go and find something to eat?”

Jethro nodded reluctantly but allowed himself to be led away, half listening to Ducky’s description of his speedy journey to Delaware.

NCISNCIS

Sometime later Tony found himself emerging from a deep darkness.  At first he enjoyed the sensation of being warm and comfortable in bed but then became aware of an ache when he breathed.  He frowned to himself because somehow he felt that the pain in his ribs had gone away.  Thinking about the pain made him tired so he allowed himself to drift off again for a few moments but then he heard people talking nearby and he thought about opening his eyes and letting people know he was awake so they could explain to him what had happened.  He was about to follow through on the plan when he realised who it was who was speaking and instinct told him it was better to feign sleep.

“Dad!” said Jethro.

“Leroy!  Are you OK?” said Jackson in a worried voice.

“I’m OK.  What are you doing here?”

“You sounded as if you were in trouble,” said Jackson.  “So I came.”

“What about Lyddie?”

“She’ll manage.  You’re more important,” said Jackson.

There was a moment or two of silence and Tony risked looking through half-open eyes to glance across the room where he saw Jackson hug his son.  Unlike the farewell embrace in DC it looked as if, for a moment at least, Jethro leaned into the hug.

“What happened?” asked Jackson.

“I told you,” said Jethro.

“Telling me that Tony was sick and that it was your fault didn’t tell me much,” said Jackson.

“I told you where we were,” Jethro pointed out.

“Only because I asked you,” said Jackson.  “So, what happened?”

“I saw someone in trouble in the water.  I called out to Tony and he went in and rescued him.  And he collapsed afterwards.”

“How’s that your fault?” asked Jackson.

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me,” said Jethro.  “We came to the beach because he thought I’d enjoy it.”

“So?”

“So it’s my fault.  And if I hadn’t got up early and gone outside I wouldn’t have seen the guy in trouble.”

“But then that guy might have drowned,” said Jackson.

“But Tony would be OK.”

Any reply from Jackson was interrupted by Ducky walking in.  Tony felt a sense of relief wash over him when he heard Ducky speak as he realised he had someone to look out for him.

“Ah, Mr Gibbs, I presume?  May I say how much you and Leroy resemble each other?  I’m Dr Mallard, but please call me Ducky.  Everyone does.”

“Are you Tony’s doctor?” asked Jackson.

“In a manner of speaking …” began Ducky.

“He’s a Medical Examiner,” interposed Jethro eagerly, “He cuts up dead people.”

Jackson looked in alarm at Tony who looked sick rather than dead.

“There is no need to worry, Mr Gibbs,” soothed Ducky, “Our friend is making excellent progress and I foresee no need for me to employ any of my professional skills.”

Tony thought he detected something like a sigh of disappointment from Jethro and hoped it was just because he was disappointed not to see Ducky in action rather wishing Tony dead.

“He’s going to be OK then?” asked Jackson as he disentangled Ducky’s words.

“I believe so,” said Ducky, “He has had an injection of narcotics to keep the pain manageable until he awakens and he is being closely monitored to watch for any possible complications and to ensure that the painkillers do not have a suppressive effect on his respiration.”

Something clicked for Tony as he realised why he felt slightly _floaty_ – the drugs were making him feel detached and content.

“May I suggest Mr Jackson, that you and Leroy leave for the night?  You will be tired from your journey and your son has had a stressful day and I fear that the hospital cafeteria has probably not provided him with the sustenance required by a lad of his age.”  Ducky paused and must, Tony supposed, have detected the beginnings of resistance, “I promise I will watch over him and will undertake to notify you should there be any change in Anthony’s condition.”

Tony smiled inwardly as he imagined the Gibbs’ reluctance being swept aside by Ducky’s steely charm.  Somehow he wasn’t surprised to hear two pairs of footsteps going out of the room.

“You can wake up now, Anthony,” said Ducky.

Tony opened his eyes, “How’d you know?”

“You forget that I have attended your sick bed far too often,” said Ducky severely.  “Now, how are you feeling?”

“Floaty, loopy,” said Tony dreamily.

“Now that you are awake the doctors will move you on to less powerful painkillers,” said Ducky.  “They wanted to make sure that you were breathing deeply and not being inhibited by pain while unconscious.”

“Looking forward to it already,” said Tony gloomily.

“Alas, I fear you have suffered a setback,” said Ducky, “But the good news is that you have not damaged your ribs again.”

“How long …” began Tony.

“Have you been here?  About eight hours,” replied Ducky.

“No, how long …”

“How long will your recovery time be?  I would think two weeks should see a considerable improvement so long as you follow your doctor’s instructions.”

“And how long …”

“And how long will you be in hospital?  I think, so long as you don’t develop any complications you should be discharged tomorrow.”

“How long …”

“How long … actually, Anthony I don’t what question you are asking me,” said Ducky.

Tony grinned, “I was going to ask how long you’ve been answering questions before they’re asked!”

“Many years and it is a skill honed from long experience of people like you,” said Ducky sternly.  “Now, allow _me_ to ask a question.”

“Go for it.”

“Why did you pretend to be asleep when Mr Gibbs and Leroy were in the room?”

“He prefers Jethro,” said Tony.  “I figured they need all the time together they can get.  And I’d have _woken up_ if it looked as if they were arguing.”

“I see,” said Ducky.  “I get the impression that Le … Jethro is a taciturn boy.  He barely spoke to me when we were in the cafeteria.”  Ducky saw Tony’s raised eyebrow and continued, “Although, to be fair, I will admit that I was talking a lot.  And now, I shall go and notify the medical staff that you are awake.”

Tony yawned, “Thanks, Ducky.  And thank you … for everything.”

“It is entirely my pleasure,” said Ducky.  “Not, of course, that I wish to see you in hospital.”  He would have continued but suspected Tony was going to fall asleep soon and he wanted the hospital doctor to come and check on his patient before that happened.

NCISNCIS

As expected, Tony was discharged the next day.  It was decided that it would be better for him to go back to the beach rather than be driven all the way back to Washington.  The ‘hut thing’ was still available and Jackson decided to stay on with his son and Tony.

“I expect you to follow instructions, Anthony,” said Ducky as he left.  He spotted Jethro looking wide-eyed at his Morgan, “And, if you return to Washington, young man, I will take you for a drive in my car.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” said Jethro.  He watched Ducky drive off and then said to Tony, “Tho’ I think I prefer your car.  I like Corvettes.”

“You’re not driving it,” said Tony.  “Nice try.”

Jethro shrugged, “Although the car I really want is a 1971 Dodge Challenger RT Hemi,” he said dreamily.

“That’s pretty specific,” commented Tony as they walked to the car.

“It’s because Dwayne Toopfer has got a beat up one in his barn,” said Jackson.  “Leroy has this dream about buying it from him and doing it up.”

“Good to dream,” said Tony as he lowered himself with a wince into the passenger seat of Jackson’s hire car.

Back at the beach, Jethro went straight outside as if he could no longer bear to be indoors.  Tony watched him go and decided to strike while the iron was hot.

“You been talking to Jethro?” he asked Jackson.

“Some,” said Jackson, “He seems a little easier in his mind.  But you know my son, he’s not exactly the chatty type.”

“Jackson, did Ann kill herself?” asked Tony.

“What?”

“Jethro thinks she killed herself,” said Tony, “Is he right?”

Jackson rubbed his face, “Yes.  Or at least, I think she did.”

“You _think_?”

“Doc Bryesdale didn’t look into it too closely.  She was dying, she just went quicker than expected so we decided to leave it.  Didn’t want her messed with any more.”

“But you think she killed herself?”

“There were some pills missing,” said Jackson, “But I guess I didn’t want to know either.”

“Jethro thinks she killed herself.  And he blames himself,” said Tony firmly.

“Why would he blame himself?”

“Because it’s what kids do.  At that age, you kinda think the world revolves around you … things that happen are because of you.  Jethro thinks if he’d been a better son she wouldn’t have done it.  It’s all messed up in his head.”

“I didn’t know,” said Jackson.

“You need to talk to him.  And not just about this but about Ann.”

“Why?”

“He’s afraid he’s going to forget her.  He needs to make memories.”

“It’s been hard, you know what he’s like,” said Jackson.

“I know.  I’m guessing you were trying to be brave, stoical to make it easier for him but I don’t think it’s worked.  He sees you being calm and he thinks maybe you don’t care that she’s gone.”  Tony raised a hand to silence the protest, “Yes, I know that you care … but Jethro doesn’t understand.  You know what he said to me?”  Jackson shook his head mutely.  “He said you cry if a dog dies in a movie but he hadn’t seen you cry over his Mom.”

Jackson shook his head again, “I tried not to cry in front of him.  I thought it would make things worse.”

“I know,” said Tony, “But I figure he needs to know that you cared about Ann … and that you care about him.  At the moment he feels his Mom abandoned him by dying … and maybe that you’ve abandoned him too.”

“I didn’t know,” said Jackson.

“Jethro’s a good boy,” said Tony, placing a hand on Jackson’s arm.  “He told me about a fight he got into at school over a girl …”

“Melinda-Mae,” said Jackson.

“That’s the one.  He said another boy was talking to her and she didn’t like it so he stepped in.  Now, perhaps he shouldn’t have got into a fight but he was sticking up for her and I reckon that’s a good thing.  He’s got a good heart but he takes responsibility … and that’s what he’s trying to do now but it’s a big weight for him to carry.   You can be proud of him, you know”

“I reckon so,” said Jackson.

“You remember when I met you?” asked Tony.

“Sure.  Undersized little shrimp you were.”

Tony grinned, “I made up for it since.  But what I remember was how you listened to me.  I reckon it was because I spoke to you about my Mom that I remember as much as I do about her.  ‘Cos, let’s face it, talking to my Dad wasn’t much of an option.”

“I remember,” said Jackson with something of a watery smile.

“You did it for me.  Try and do it for your son,” said Tony.

“I’ll try,” said Jackson.

“If you don’t, you’ll lose him,” warned Tony.  “Just because he doesn’t talk much doesn’t mean that he’s not thinking.  And just because he tries not to show any emotions … well, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have them and that they don’t run deep.”

“I’ll go find him now,” said Jackson.  “And you can do the first of those breathing exercises Dr Mallard gave you.  You got that Spirograph thing?”

“Spirometer,” corrected Tony.  “Yeah, I’ve got it.  I’ll get to it when you’ve gone.”

Tony did the exercises, took his pain killers and went for a gentle walk in the opposite direction to Jackson.  When he came back it was to find Jethro and Jackson sitting in the yard, both with slightly red eyes.  Tony hoped that it was the beginning of a mending of their fractured relationship and turned his mind to what else he could do to help.

Jethro saw him coming and jumped up, “Hey, can we start on the guitar lessons?”

“Don’t think I can hold the guitar,” said Tony, “But I can tell you what to do.”

“Sounds about right,” said Jethro with all the world weariness of a child feeling under the thumb of adults.

“Hey,” said Tony giving him a light tap on the head, “Injured man here!”

Jethro grinned at Tony and straightened his hair.

“That reminds me,” said Jackson, “What happened to Leroy’s hair?”

“You’re on your own with that,” said Tony to Jethro.  “I’m going to see what’s on the menu at the hotel.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Jethro hastily.

“Leroy!” called Jackson to his son’s retreating back, “What’s going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter to go, I think.


	6. Chapter 6

The days at the beach fell into a pattern largely dictated by the Gibbs’ wish to help Tony in his recovery.  So, they took in turns to take Tony on slow gentle walks along the water’s edge and found shops which sold _interesting_ food to tempt a faltering appetite.  Jackson and Jethro also monitored Tony to ensure he was taking his pain medication and doing his breathing exercises.  And, because they knew that Tony also needed some down time, they would considerately go off on longer walks so Tony could rest.

Tony was unsure what father and son talked about on their walks but suspected that old fears were being put to rest and memories shared.  It was unlikely that the Gibbs duo would be happy anytime soon but Tony would settle for bridges being built.  And to gain that he was willing to allow himself to be cossetted and cared for and if part of him enjoyed the unfamiliar experience, well that was nobody’s business but his.

In fact, Tony didn’t need as much rest as his companions believed and often, while they were out, he would take a walk in the opposite direction to get more exercise than they would prescribe.  And so it was that Tony came across something which he thought might help Jethro move on.

Tony thought about it for a couple of days and then announced after breakfast that he felt like going for a walk with Jethro.  He winked at Jackson who said,

“Go on, both of you.  Leave an old man in peace, why don’t you?”  He rattled his newspaper to show that he couldn’t wait to go back to it.

“How are things?” asked Tony as he and Jethro set off.

“Fine,” shrugged Jethro.

“Fine as in _fine_ or fine as in OK?” asked Tony.

Jethro took a moment to consider this before answering, “Fine.  I think.”

“Good,” said Tony.  “You still mad at your Dad?”

“Not so much,” said Jethro.  “He explained a few things.”

“And did you explain anything?” asked Tony.

“What?”

“Hey, funny thing about communication.  It goes two ways.”

“Huh?”

“Your Dad’s not psychic.  Sometimes you actually need to tell him what’s wrong.”

Jethro shrugged, “OK.”

Tony decided to interpret that positively, “See that you do.”  He got no response so tapped the boy gently on the head, “Hey!  See that you do!”

Jethro grinned, “Enough with the head taps!  I heard you.”

“You know,” said Tony, “If the Marine Corps doesn’t work out I reckon you’d have a future with NCIS.”

“Eh?”

“You’re observant, quick, honest … you look out for people.  It could work out,” said Tony.

Jethro looked pleased but said, “Nah, I want to be a Marine.”

“Fair enough,” said Tony, “But don’t go into the Marine Corps because you want to fight.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s no point going in if you’re not prepared to fight but don’t go in because you’re mad with the world and just want to fight.  You know what I mean?”

“I guess,” said Jethro.  “And I was mad.  But not so much now and I still want to be a Marine.”

“Then go for it,” said Tony.  “But remember, NCIS could be an option.”

Jethro nodded and then changed the subject, “Dad said you were really good at basketball and football.”

“ _Were_?” frowned Tony.

“You know what I mean,” said Jethro.  “He said you were on the varsity teams at college.”

“Yeah,” said Tony.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You prefer baseball,” said Tony.  “Didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Baseball would have been better,” said Jethro, “But I like football.  And basketball.  You could give me some tips?”

“OK,” said Tony, “We could do that.  Hey, we’re here.”

“Where?”

“Here,” said Tony.  “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Jethro looked a little disgruntled that sports coaching wasn’t starting immediately but followed Tony willingly enough into a backyard.

“I ran into Terri the other day,” said Tony as he smiled at the plump brunette who had seen their arrival.  “Terri, this is Jethro.  Jethro, meet Terri Sinclair.”

There was a hint of sullenness on Jethro’s face as he feared he was being drawn into some sort of social gathering which was stealing time from basketball or guitar lessons but he managed to avoid shrugging.

“You’ll like this,” said Tony with a laugh at Jethro’s expression and he followed Terri down to an enclosed area near the house.  Jethro’s mouth fell open when he saw what was there.  “Sirocco had pups a few weeks ago,” explained Tony.  “Eight of them.”  He pointed to an excited pile of squirmy puppies.

“You want to go in?” asked Terri.  “It’s OK now, they’ve had their injections.”

Jethro nodded wordlessly and Terri opened the gate and let him in.  The puppies wriggled towards him excitedly and he laughed, “What are they?” he asked.

“Labrador/Golden Retriever cross,” said Terri.  “I’ll leave you to it.”   She recognised the look of pure love on the boy’s face and somehow thought he’d be with the dogs for some time.

“You like them?” asked Tony.

Jethro nodded again.

“You can choose one,” said Tony.  Jethro’s head jerked up.  “I checked with Jackson.  He’s on board.  It would belong to both of you but you can choose.”

The smallest pup managed to make its way through its siblings and clambered onto Jethro’s lap where he absentmindedly stroked it.  Tony waited a few minutes and then asked, “Have you chosen one?”

Jethro looked at the litter and stroked the little creature on his lap and nodded.  He reached to the edge of the group and picked up a puppy.  “This one,” he said.

Tony nodded, somehow he was not surprised.  Part of him had thought he would choose the smallest puppy but the chosen one had stayed on the fringe of the group and watched what was going on, weighing things up before joining in.  It wasn’t that it was lacking in confidence but more that it seemed to think things through before acting, much like its future master, “Good choice,” he said.

Tony managed eventually to tear Jethro away from the dogs and they began to walk back.  “The dog will mostly be yours,” he said, “But chances are you’ll be going away in a few years.  You won’t be able to take the dog with you so it’ll need to be friends with your Dad too.  That make sense?”

Jethro nodded.  “Sure.  And it’s not an it, it’s a she.”

“I stand corrected,” said Tony.  “Thought of a name yet?”

“Bethany,” said Jethro, “After the beach.”

“Run on ahead,” said Tony, “Take my cell, you can show Jackson the pictures of Bethany.”  He smiled as he watched Jethro race ahead.

NCISNCIS

The visit was over.  Jackson and Jethro had returned to DC with Tony … and Bethany.  Jethro had been for the promised ride in Ducky’s Morgan and been given a tour of NCIS Headquarters including a tour of Autopsy – Jethro wasn’t sure whether or not he was relieved that none of Ducky’s _work_ was on display.

“Thanks, Tony, for everything,” said Jackson as he took one last look around Tony’s apartment.  An apartment which was not quite as pristine as usual following the brief visit from Bethany.

“My pleasure,” said Tony, grinning as he realised he meant it.  He stretched out his hand to Jackson but was pulled into a hug instead.

“Thank you,” repeated Jackson softly.

“Thanks, Tony,” said Jethro.  “For … for …”

“My pleasure,” said Tony, taking pity on the boy and repeating his words to Jackson.  He looked at Jethro and, taking a risk, pulled him into a quick embrace.  The risk paid off and Jethro buried his face in Tony’s chest for a second or two.  “Don’t forget,” said Tony, “I’m always here.  Call me sometime.”

“I will,” said Jethro a little shakily.

“And Jethro …” said Tony.

“Yes?”

“Make sure Bethany is housetrained before you bring her here again!”

“I will!” promised Jethro.

And with that they were gone.  Tony’s apartment was his again – and it was empty. 

“You did it again, DiNozzo,” said Tony to himself.  “Why is it you can fix other people but not yourself?” 

And he shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in the story. The characters are back in their boxes – the right way up!


End file.
